


Hats

by yellowsmartie08



Category: Castle
Genre: Caskett, F/M, Fluff, Hats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowsmartie08/pseuds/yellowsmartie08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castle and Beckett have an argument over who should wear the deerstalker. Established Caskett relationship, tiny spoilers for 4x23, Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hats

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything you recognise.

“Good morning, Kate,” Castle greets her with his usual smile and bounce as she rolls out of bed, hair tussled from their late night activities and face crumpled with not enough sleep. She mumbles a reply, stumbling through to the bathroom and just managing to stay upright when she catches her toe on the corner of the dresser. He follows her movements with a fond sigh of affection and momentarily leaves the room to fix her her usual cup of coffee.

He is startled minutes later at the coffee machine when a pair of hands snake round his waist, gripping each other and giving him a firm squeeze. He lets out a squeak, only just managing to keep all the coffee in both their mugs as he twizzles, brushing a gentle kiss over her forehead and taking in her crisp, pressed shirt and dress pants with an appreciative smirk, her bare, painted toes wiggling against his Superman slippers a wonderfully domestic contrast to her professional attire. She leans into the kiss and accepts her drink, sighing in bliss as the hot liquid hits the back of her throat. As she peeks up at him from half-closed lids she catches sight of the article perched on his carefully styled hair.

“Castle? What are you wearing?” He reaches up with his spare hand and frowns, forgetting for a moment that he added a new piece of clothing to his usual outfit.

“Oh, this?” He pulls it off and places it on her brunette curls. “It’s a deerstalker. I ordered it to remind me that I am the superior intellect in this street.”

“Superior intellect?” She challenges his statement with a perfectly plucked, raised eyebrow, taking a step back to dodge the hand that reaches towards her to remove the hat from her head. “What about me?”

“What about you?” His brow furrows. “I’m Sherlock. You’re quite clearly John.”

“Quite clearly?” she splutters, jabbing him in the chest with a sharp finger. “I’m the one that detects stuff, mister. You and John are the writers in the relationship.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that Sherlock Holmes is a Consulting Detective – and I have been referred to on multiple occasions as a police consultant. You and John both own guns, you’re both protective-”

“Oh, I’m protective? Well – you and John are both tag-alongs. If it wasn’t for our amazing deducting skills, you wouldn’t have anywhere to be and John wouldn’t have stayed with Sherlock-”

Rick pretends to contemplate her argument, causing a wide grin to spread over her face as she thought she’d won. “Well, you and Sherlock have both been in treacherous positions on rooftops. I suppose you didn’t choose to, but that’s one more rooftop than I’ve been on.”

“Exactly,” she smirks. “And we’re musical. He plays the violin, and I play the guitar.”

“And,” Castle continues, seemingly ignoring her interruption. “You both don’t let anyone in. I’ve had to scratch and claw for every inch, and it’s only because of John that Sherlock has become more human.”

He freezes under Kate’s deadly glare. “You saying I’m not human, Castle? That I needed you to show me how to live again?” He swallows. “You know what? Let’s settle this once and for all. I’m calling Espo.” She pulls out her cell and dials the familiar number. “Hey – Esposito? Yeah, it’s me. I’ll be there soon. But quickly – who’s Sherlock: me, or Castle?”   
There is a crackle on the other end, and Castle leans closer to try to hear what the other detective is saying.

“Just answer it, Javi,” Kate says, annoyance and impatience seeping into her voice as she pushes the loudspeaker button. They both hear the answer, loud and clear.

“Sorry, Beckett.” They can hear the teasing tone of their friend, and the stifled snorts of Ryan in the background. “Not my division.”


End file.
